


I'm Not That Girl

by HillyHale



Series: Out of Oz: Wicked Songfics [1]
Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: ASL, Androgyny, Angst, Anxiety, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fear, Hair, High School AU, Ilse cuts off all her hair, Internalised Homophobia, Modern AU, Panic, Peer Pressure, Songfic, Trans Character, Unrequited Love, Wicked songfic, and Georg fancies Ilse but she fancies Martha, bigender Ilse, bisexual Ilse, brief use of asl, everyone fancies Georg except Ilse, gay Ilse, haircut, internalised biphobia, nonbinary Ilse, panic induced mutism, sad fic, so angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillyHale/pseuds/HillyHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'But, then again, thought Ilse, that was always going to be the way, wasn't it? The people who were giving their attentions to Ilse would be the ones she wasn't interested in, and the ones she wished would notice her were the ones who never would.'</p>
<p>Ilse faces an awkward conversation after turning down the romantic advances of Georg Zirschnitz, the most fancied guy in the school. How can she tell anyone the real reason she turned him down?</p>
<p>Modern High School AU, 'I'm Not That Girl' (Wicked) songfic. Lyric by Stephen Schwartz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not That Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! The story's mine, but the characters and the lyric aren't. The song is 'I'm Not That Girl' from the Stephen Schwartz musical, 'Wicked', and the characters are all from 'Spring Awakening', the Wedekind play and Sheik/Sater musical. Enjoy!

**Hands touch, eyes meet. Sudden silence, sudden heat. Hearts leap in a giddy whirl. He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl.**

 

"Oh, but you're so lucky!" gushed Anna, "Seriously, he's so beautiful. I mean, how can you not be into him? Oh… oh, hang on. Are you gay?"

Ilse froze. "Yes," she thought, "But not in the way Anna's thinking. God, how to explain?" Seconds passed, each of them intensifying Ilse's wish that Anna hadn't just asked that in the middle of the lunch hall, where anyone could overhear. She scrambled for something to say, but, when she tried to reply, "I'm bisexual," she found she couldn't speak. So she signed it instead, moving four fingers away from her chin as she folded three of them down - index, middle and ring - until only her little finger remained extended. "Bi," she mouthed. It was all she could manage.

"I'm sorry. I don't know sign language," replied Anna, shrugging, "Why can't you just say it out loud?"

Obviously, Ilse wouldn't answer. She swallowed hard, swallowed the thought, "Because I'm terrified of what my identity will mean for my future," and stammered, "Bi."

"Bi?"

Ilse nodded, and then black spots started appearing in her vision. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said, hurrying to the toilets and locking herself into the third cubicle.

God, God, _God!_

"How," Ilse thought, "Could I have been so stupid as to think that question wouldn't be asked? And why was I so stupid as to give a truthful answer? I couldn't even carry it off for a day that I just turned him down because he wasn't my type! Why do I let myself believe anything will ever be all right? Why? Why? _Why?_ The world will never accept me; I am genderfluid, bisexual and gay, and people hate all of those things quite enough separately! Together! _Together_ , oh… Never-" She leaned against the wall of the cubicle and threw her head back so it banged, "-Never forget who you are, Ilse. Everyone hates you, and everyone always will."

**Don't dream too far. Don't lose sight of who you are. Don't remember that rush of joy; He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl.**

 

Ilse squeezed her eyes shut, let the tears roll down her cheeks, and wondered how things might have been simpler if she'd only taken Georg up on his offer of a relationship. True, it would have meant living a lie, but Ilse, right now, felt she might have been more comfortable with a lie than with the truth. Still, it was too late now; she'd already turned him down, and she could hardly go back and say she'd made a mistake, could she?

**Every so often, we long to steal to the world of what might have been, But that doesn't soften the ache we feel when reality sets back in.**

 

The door of the toilets banged open and Ilse heard the unmistakeable sound of Anna's Doc Martens on the floor.

"Ilse… Are you OK?" she asked.

Ilse didn't answer, letting her silence speak for itself.

"Ilse… you should know. He really likes you, and he's a proper catch. Girls would kill to be asked out by Georg. Guys, too! Just look at Bobby and Moritz!"

Ilse rolled her eyes, still not answering.

"And you know you've got it going on, but you haven't dated anyone, this whole time I've known you. You could have any guy you wanted, so why not have the guy everyone wants?"

**Blithe smile, lithe limb. She who's winsome, she wins him. Gold hair with a gentle curl, that's the girl he chose, and Heaven knows I'm not that girl.**

 

Ilse banged her head against the cubicle wall again, and groaned loudly. "I'm not that girl!" she growled.

"Well, you know… just because you're bi… I doesn't mean you can't date boys. Give Georg a chance, just for a date or two!" pushed Anna, "Make a little effort with your appearance, do something nice with your hair, and who knows? Something good might come of it."

"Look, he's not my type, all right?" Ilse snapped.

"Nonsense! Georg Zirschnitz is everyone's _type_!"

"Well, I'm not his," retorted Ilse, pulling and elastic around the top of her braid and drawing a pair of scissors from the pocket of her jacket. "And if he cares that much about my hair, he can _have_ it!" She opened the scissors, squeezed her eyes shut, and hacked the braid off just above the upper elastic.

Flinging open the cubicle door, she thrust the severed braid into Anna's hands. "Take it," Ilse snapped, "Take it and give it to him. See if I care!"

"Your _hair_!" exclaimed Anna, "Oh, God, Ilse what've you done to yourself?"

Ilse shrugged. "Something of no consequence," she replied, stalking out of the toilets and wiping tears off her face onto her sleeve.

On her way back into the lunch hall, she passed Martha, whose head was bent over a book. Martha's hair hung in two dark braids over her shoulders, and Ilse self-consciously touched her own poor shorn locks. Martha didn't notice Ilse as she passed.

But, then again, thought Ilse, that was always going to be the way, wasn't it? The people who were giving their attentions to Ilse would be the ones she wasn't interested in, and the ones she wished would notice her were the ones who never would.

**Don't wish, don't start; wishing only wounds the heart. I wasn't born for the rose and pearl. There's a girl I know; he loves her so. I'm not that girl.**

 

By the time she reached the outer door of the hall, Ilse had taken to staring at the ground and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. It was hardly surprising, therefore, when she collided with someone, and knocked her shoulder hard against the door-frame.

"Hey, are you OK?" It was Georg.

Ilse looked up. "Oh, God, not _you_ ," she groaned, "Not _now_ …"

Georg looked at her properly. "Ilse?" he asked, "Is that you? Oh, my God, I didn't even recognise you… What happened to your hair?"

"Ask Anna," muttered Ilse. She went to move along, but winced as a bullet of pain shot through her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, no. You're hurt. Come on, you're coming with me to the nurse," said Georg, taking a gentle hold of Ilse's arm.

As they crossed the quad, Georg paused. "So… um… I know you don't want to date, but can we still be friends? I like your company."

"Sure," Ilse replied, trying to smile through her tears and the pain in her shoulder. "And I'm really sorry about earlier," she added.

"Don't be," replied Georg, "By the way… Your hair looks nice like that, long on one side and short on the other. It's cute, kind of… what's the word? Androgynous?"

Ilse nodded, smiling. "Probably," she said. That was something, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I scribbled this into my writing journal a couple of days ago after the song got stuck in my head. What can I say? I'm Broadway-obsessed! Reviews are hecka welcome :)


End file.
